---

---

Reservoir Lane was near the heart of Blacktown, comprised of several rundown houses and apartment blocks. No less than typical for the region. But there was a house on the street, number 7, that stood out among the rest of the residential properties. It was renowned as the well-kept house for miles and therefore hard not to notice. This house was owned by a single man that most in the neighbourhood were aware of, but no one actually knew. By what was mostly snide remarks and snickering mockery, this man was referred to by most as Mr Perfect. Nobody knew his real name, how long he had lived there, or even what he did for work.

The yard of his property was immaculate, the trimmed lawn was soft, even fluffy looking, with no variance in the lush shade of green. Two oak trees stood in the yard, the trunk of each one girded perfectly, as if a ruler had been used to ensure the trunk was perfectly centred in their allocated patch of dirt. The bleach white concrete path was stainless and lead up to the front porch of the house between the Oak trees directly from the footpath off the street.

The house itself was a single story. Again, in immaculate condition with what appeared to be a fresh coat of beige paint. The tiles of the roof were a rich clay colour. The frames of the windows and doors were a deeper shade of brown. The windows were tinted very dark, allowing no one to see inside.

---

This morning, inside the house, was Darrel. A lean yet strong man of very upright posture, standing a little over six feet tall with square shoulders, a straight neck, and a chin held that little too high.

In public, or even so much as exiting the front door of his quaint little house to do a little gardening, Darrel wore a suit and tie. Nothing expensive, of course, any high roller would know at a glance he certainly didn’t shop at Dolce & Gabbana. But that didn’t matter to Darrel. He wore the suit like a man of unequalled integrity – and that is all he would ever wear; a black suite, black polished boots, white shirt and black tie. Seven of the same attire hung in the second-hand redwood wardrobe of his bedroom. One for each day of the week. One extra for good measure. On his wrist, Darrel wore an imitation silver Rolex analogue watch, a plain silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. Combined, they were the sum of accessories he would ever be willing to wear.

Inside was another matter. He rarely wore clothing at home, not so much as underwear. With the exception of when he was entertaining the occasional guest, during which times he would dress in a plain grey T-shirt, grey cotton tracksuit pants cut off at the knees, and plain grey socks. Nothing more. This outfit too was also duplicated seven-fold, immaculately folded in his dresser drawers. One for each day of the week, and one extra for good measure.

This morning, alike many a morning of late, Darrel was cleaning. Naked, with dustpan and brush in hand, he finished sweeping away the last remaining traces of dust from his bleach-white bedsheets. After which, he removed said sheets, dropped them in the washing machine along with detergent – the amount of which he had perfected – and set the wash to Full Cycle. He would likely need to repeat the wash several times for good measure throughout the day and possibly into tomorrow. But that was okay, he did have seven more sets of the same bedsheets immaculately folded in the hallway closet.

Once the sheets were in the wash he shit, shaved and showered. Then the first cycle was done. Setting the wash to another full cycle he cooked one perfectly poached egg, one perfectly browned toast, and one glass of orange juice. No salt and no pepper. No butter. No added sugar. After breakfast, he started the second washing cycle, dressed in his suit and attended the bathroom where he carefully and meticulously combed his short black hair, then commenced removing even so much as a shadow of lint from his suit coat with a lint roller.

After several minutes of antagonising over his appearance, he came to accept everything was perfect. His tie, perfectly straight. His suit, void of marks. His clean shaven face and strong jawline, clear of blemish. His intense translucent blue eyes, as always without flaw. Black boots could have been used as a mirror. His hair… remarkable.

‘You are the perfect man,’ He told himself, ‘She is out there, somewhere.’

Once another cycle of bedsheets was complete and the fourth cycle started, he was ready to exit the house and start his day - but first, there was one other thing to do:

He arrived in the lounge room, furnished only with a stereo system. The low budget stereo was centred in the otherwise empty room. He touched the play button as if touching a priceless gemstone. The music began to play. And there he stood swaying to the music, eyes closed, a faint smile riding his face.

A rattling of the flimsy screen door and a distinct pounding of a heavy fist on the front door woke Dustynn Knight from her hazy slumber from the living room couch. "What?!" she exclaimed groggily, but loud enough to be heard through the thin walls of the home she rented on Reservoir Lane. The pounding continued, and obscenities spewed from the young woman's mouth as she got up from the couch and practically stomped over to the door. Fumbling with the lock she flung open the front door, the chain lock spread across leaving just a few inches of space. Looking down only slightly she was met with the face of a snot nosed kid from the block, "Can I mow your lawn for twenty bucks?" Dusty slammed the door, unlocked the chain and flung the door back open revealing herself to the kid.

Dustynn stands very petite at five foot two and weighing less than one hundred and fifteen pounds. Closer to one hundred during her months of "I'm trying hard to cut back man.." which is a nice way of putting: not drinking alcohol and eating fast food every night. She has a head full of naturally curly black hair, that she keeps long and often leaves down. Her eyes are dark brown which can appear to be black when in the evening lighting. Dusty's enjoys being dolled up, but doesn't put too much effort in to her appearance, clearly displayed in the raggedy band tee shirt and the bicycle shorts she wore to sleep. She usually enjoyed lipsticks, eyeliners, and eye shadows when appropriate. Her body is littered with many scars and often bruises from her escapades of the past and present. Her ears are pierced in several places, mostly done in the bathroom of friend's houses and very uneven.

Another hole is just another hole after all.

"What did you say?" she questioned as the kid took a few step backs. Dusty was not intimidating by any means, but she was reckless and when you don't know what to expect next you had to keep light on your feet. "I asked if I could mow your lawn cause it looks bad." he said boldly. The two looked around the yard, it did look pretty pitiful. Was she supposed to do the yard work or were the people she was renting from do that? When she lived with her Mom a few years ago prior to moving out she always took care of the yard work and even took some pride in making the front of their trailer look habitable. Dustynn smirked, this little kid had some nerve but he wasn't wrong. You little shit." she stated, her palm reaching up and rubbing the front of her face. "I don't have a lawnmower or twenty bucks." she commented between gritted teeth. The boy guffawed as he took a few more steps back from the front step, "Fucking loser." he said as he bolted down the walk.

Dustynn took off running after the kid out the door and through the grass. He was too fast, and she was out of luck. A huff of breath escaped from her mouth, her hands going up to her hips as she watched him run away to the set of apartments that were further down on the block. She grumbled to herself as she reached up to her ear, a half smoked joint from the previous night sat delicately. Pleasantly surprised she took it from the nook and walked back into her small one bedroom home to get herself a lighter.

There wasn't much to look at in her residence, furniture was minimum. The place was not messy, but by no means clean either. Drug paraphernalia and traces of alcohol could be seen littered around the living room and kitchen area. Her bedroom on the other hand was a sanctuary, welcoming and clean although littered with way too many clothes. Dusty's style is comfort with a splash of grunge. When not in pajamas she is always seen in some type of denim, whether it be skinnies or daisy dukes- she has jeans on. Not too picky with whatever her top is, as long as it doesn't smell too bad from the last time she washed it. She tends to not wear a purse or any type of bag with her, so don't be surprised if she asks you to place her stuff in your pockets or your own bag. Wears accessories often, but nothing worth more than a couple dollars. Wears a watch sometimes, but the battery has long been dead.

Speaking of which-

What time was it?

Too early.

A moan of distaste came from the young girl's mouth, she worked nights at one of the seedy bars in Blacktown and so her mornings were meant for sleeping in. She wouldn't be falling asleep again any time soon, too awake from the burst of energy she received from chasing off the con artist in the body of a ten year old. Grabbing a toasted bagel for herself she smothered butter on it and took back to outside with her lighter and bagel in tow. The weather was just starting to change, which Dusty loved- she enjoyed fall the most out of all the other seasons. The warmth of her bagel hitting her lips, and then in rotation with drags of the last bit of weed for the week. Enjoying the moment as best she could, she pulled her legs up and under her shirt to contain some warmth as she watched the neighborhood begin to stir awake.

---

Mornings were the end of Lilith's day where she would often change her heels to a pair of comfy Birkenstocks, wiped heavy makeup off her face, and changed from the lace underwear to a loose crop top and black sweats. Every morning her muscles ached, and her ears rang from a night of dancing at the local gentleman's club, one of the few that seemed to be close to a high-class strip club.

Lilith was one of the few dancers in the club who actually knew how to spin and dance on the pole, so she was often booked for a private room to show off some of her upper body strength to men who didn't think of her pole dancing as a skill. No, most of them just saw her almost exposed tits and ass as she twirled with grace on a pole. If those men were to try some of the tricks she was able to pull off on a pole, they would most certainly fall flat on their asses. But it didn't matter to Lilith-- most of the days. Tips from those private bookings were enough to get her through a whole week. More so if the men in the private rooms sported some brand clothing or watches, Lilith was sure to give them extra attention to receive more tips from those who had to offer.

Tonight, she had been lucky enough to get booked for two private rooms. The first had gone without a hitch. Just a bunch of men trying to have fun while she sweated her ass off on the pole and smiled like her arms were not on fire. They had tipped her generously by tucking in a few twenty-dollar bills in her lace panties as she gave each of them a lap dance. One of the men had gotten brave enough to touch her, which on a stern slap on the hand from Lilith. She didn't mind them watching her shake her ass or dance half-naked on the stage, but the touching, she never allowed that. Ever.

The second booking hadn't gone as smoothly as the first. Since the beginning, one of the men had tried to touch her on several occasions. And while Lilith tried to smile it off and dance away from him, he continued his advances. With that creepy smile that gave Lilith the chills, she had to cut the session short. She had been in this type of job for three years now. She was used to creepy men who didn't take the hint. Creepy men that didn't stop staring at her. But this one was different. He didn't seem interested in her body. He didn't stare at her chest or her ass but her eyes. Just her eyes.

Even now, as the sun began to rise and Lilith made her way to her car behind the club, she couldn't shake off the cold feeling from her mind. Turning her car on, locking the doors, and turning the radio on, she tried to get those cold eyes away from her mind. She had more things to worry about. Like breakfast and the much-needed nap, her body was demanding.

Breakfast first.

Nice hot tea and pancakes sounded heavenly right now. So with the determination to get some food in her, Lilith turned up the radio and drove her way to "Emily's Family Diner" to get her much needed pancakes hoping to put those cold stares in the past.

The insistent buzz of an alarm clock was enough to awake Teo from his slumber with a suffering groan. "Alright. Alright I'm up." He grumbled sitting up from the bed and hitting the clock's off switch with probably a bit too much force than necessary. It was 5:30am. Way to early to be awake in his honest opinion. Mateo took a moment to rub what sleep he could from his eyes before getting up. If he didn't get out of bed now then there was a good chance he wasn't going to get up at all. In a matter of twenty minutes he managed to take a quick cold shower, brush his teeth, and over all freshen up for the day. Feeling more awake, the ravenette manged to locate his work uniform, pulling his diner issued polo over his head. Not really his style but he supposed it wasn't too bad. He thought checking his reflection in the mirror one last time. ....Well he didn't exactly look like death at least.

Mateo being neither exceptionally tall nor not quite short guy stands at an average height at 5'9'. He has a lean build sporting lean muscles, firm shoulders, and a thin waist. His hair is made up of short black locks that are styled in a short fluffy mohawk with the sides being buzzed. Below thin black brows sit a pair of ocean blue eyes that seem to have a perpetual sleep deprived hollow look about them. Working two jobs didn't help much either. His skin tone being a natural tan in color is marred with a few scars here and there. The most noticeable being an old bullet wound in his left side.

Checking the time once more, he grabbed his car keys made it out the door taking a moment to lock it behind him.Thankfully his car started without much of a fuss. That was a blessing in itself. Usually it took a couple of attempts and a bit of pleading to even crank. It helped that 'Emily's Family Diner" wasn't that far of a drive and at this hour traffic was not an issue either. He pulled into the diner's parking lot with the familiar rattle his car always seemed to make. Teo walked into the diner giving his fellow sleep deprived co-workers a nod in greeting feeling a bit of energy hit him as the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit him. He supposed the upside to opening for the diner was the free coffee that was always provided by the cooks. He slipped off his jacket in favor for his waist apron and grabbed the necessary cleaning supplies to bust tables. A glance at the clock, the diner would open soon and if he wanted to be done in time he'd need to get started soon. Today was gonna be a long. He could just feel it.

College classes were starting soon, so making a habit out of getting up early would be beneficial. Of course, that's what his parents told him; the same parents who were down in Fort Lauderdale partying the night away. Whatever. As long as they were there and not here to hassle him about fucking everything, he didn't care. Honestly, he preferred the simplicity of Blacktown over the hectic tourism trap that was Florida.

By 7:00, Eric was out the shower, the last of his grogginess having been washed down the drain. As he brushed his short, dark brown hair, he took in his appearance. Being alone and responsible for himself had taken a toll on his body. Where he once had a slight paunch, there was now a developing potbelly. His hips had widened as well, leaving some stretch marks that thankfully no one would be able to see. Despite this, he generally still retained a rather skinny shape. His face, dotted with stubble, remained as it always had; slightly rounded cheeks, blue eyes and all.

His shower finished, Eric took some time to tidy up his apartment. Brendon Urie's voice pulsed through his earbuds as he vacuumed the main "living" area. There was something satisfying about the independence that came with moving into his apartment building. Perhaps it was the sense of accomplishment he had whenever he finished menial housework. It really made him feel like he knew what he was doing.

Next was breakfast, and Eric knew just where to get it. Yes, this would be the day he finally tried "Emily's Family Diner." He'd heard plenty of locals recommend it, but he preferred to have breakfast in his own home. It was just more comfortable that way. Not today, though.

Traffic was light due to the hour, but Eric could tell it was going to pick up pretty quickly. There was a good chance it'd be a nightmare by the time he was done with breakfast. Oh, well. He could probably kill time by wandering around the nearby shops until things cleared up. The diner in question was pretty empty when he arrived. He quickly snagged himself an empty table, pulling out his phone to browse while he waited for a server to come by.

Pancakes, or French toast? Maybe I can get both with one as a side. Could I even eat all that?

A heavy sigh left the lips of the disheveled looking young man as he stepped off the train, onto the all too familiar train platform of his home neighbourhood. It had been a couple of years since Marcus had stepped foot on home turf, and honestly he would have been happy if it had been even longer. He wasn’t exactly eager to get home, and he was sure that “home” wasn’t too eager to have him back either. He started walking away from the train platform, down a set of stairs, in the direction of his family home, casually glancing around the familiar surroundings. The place hadn’t changed a bit since he left.

Once he had left the train station, he took a second to stop and think. Setting his duffel bag full of clothes, laptop bag and guitar case down beside him, he retrieved his phone from his pocket. It was old, with several cracks in the screen, but it still worked. Brushing his long, messy, dark brown hair from his face with his other hand, he called the contact in his phone that was listed “Dad”, for the 10th time in the last 2 days. The call went straight to voicemail this time. Marcus gritted his teeth, grumbling to himself softly. “Why the fuck won’t anyone answer..?” He mumbled under his breath, sighing heavily again. He had been trying for days to get in contact with anyone in his family, with no luck. Well, looks like they were gonna get a surprise.

Marcus wasn’t looking forward to returning home. He didn’t exactly have the greatest relationship with his family, and did a good job of burning that bridge when he left for college, so it was no surprise that no one in his family was returning his calls. If he could avoid it, he wouldn’t go back, but after being expelled from school, he didn’t really have any other options. Hesitantly, he picked up his things again, slinging his bags over his shoulder and holding his guitar case in his other hand, before starting down Reservoir Lane.

It was quite a nostalgia trip for the young man, walking down the street where he grew up, albeit one he would rather not have. He had very few fond memories of his time growing up in this neighbourhood. It was never the nicest of places, and it seemed like it had only gotten worse. Rumours of increasing amount of people going missing from the area had been circulating recently, and the crime rate had definitely gone up. It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant time to be returning home.

Marcus stopped as he reached his family home. If anything, it looked more rundown than ever, and it never was in good shape to begin with. It almost looked abandoned, with boarded up windows, and not a single sign of inhabitation. Marcus raised a brow as he noticed a “For Sale” sign in the front yard. “...The fuck…?” He mumbled to himself, before approaching the front door, tentatively knocking a few times. “Hello? Anyone home?” He called out, with a tinge of worry colouring his voice. No response. If there was anyone home, they were doing a damn good job of hiding.

“Fuck!” Marcus exclaimed at no one in particular, kicking the door in frustration. It definitely seemed like his family had up and left, without so much as a text message to let him know. He didn’t exactly blame them, especially after he had left things, but still. A little heads up would have been nice. Another heavy, frustrated sigh escaped him as he set his things down and sat on the front step of his abandoned family home. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now…?” He pondered to himself, staring blankly out into the street.

---

Lilith got there just five minutes after opening time. She was a usual at the diner, going there a few times a week after work; especially during difficult nights. The whole homey vibe that the diner gave off made Lilith feel like she belonged there eating her usual order. It was always two scrambled eggs, bacon, grilled smashed potatoes, and two big fluffy pancakes. Lilith may be biased, but breakfast at the diner was one of her most favorite things about starting a new day. The strong coffee just lifted her up and made her feel like the rest of the day would go perfectly. Like there was not a worry on the world just for an hour while she sat there alone and ate.

Or maybe she was putting too much thought it to it. The food reminded her of her family. Of her father. The smell of the strong coffee brought back memories of waking up to the smell of it early in the morning before school and having a sip with her father while Leon and Lyric argued over the left over bacon. Those were happy times that Lilith missed dearly and she would go back to it in an instant if her guilty conscience let her. The thought of just having to face her father and seeing the disappointment on his face as she explained everything that had happened was too much for her. Just thinking about it made her teary-eyed.

No, no, there was no time to think of that right now. Right now it was time for pancakes and lots of yummy bacon... that she would have to burn off later by cardio. Or whatever another way. Maybe some practice would be nice, polish some new moves on the pole.

Anyway, as Lilith made her way to her usual spot by in the lunch counter, she set her bag down and waved over to one of the cooks from her seat. "Morning, Manda! nice to see you're all dolled up for me, hun." She called out to the cook, who rolled her eyes and flipped off Lilith with a grin.

"It ain't for you, sweety, but it is always nice to see you and that nice face of yours," Manda replied as she walked around one of the large industrial stoves and over to the lunch counter. Manda was long black hair wrapped up in a neat bun and wore a plain white shirt with some plain jeans. She was one of Lilith's first friends in Blacktown, and also one of her first clients at the club. It had been a pretty awkward first conversation, but the more Lilith kept going to the diner, the closer she got to Manda. Lilith had to admit that she had been crushing on the taller woman. Those well-toned arms covered with tattoos were something that Lilith loved to see work as she ate her pancakes.

"Aw, thank you, I do always try to doll up just for you." Lilith winked at the woman as laughed and turned to get a mug and the coffee for Lilith.

"Well, I'm flattered to see that your badly wiped make up is what you called 'being dolled up' for me." Manda poured the coffee on the mug and slide it in front of Lilith. "Let Mateo take your order and don't worry about the bill; this one is on me. I owe you one anyway," she put the pot of coffee back in its place and returned to the kitchen.

With a hum, Lilith said a small thank you and sipped her coffee without putting any sugar to it. Manda's lovely backside had distracted her from putting any sweetener on her coffee, so when Lilith sipped the coffee, she almost spit it out. After regaining some composure and ignoring Manda's laughter, she poured some sugar on her coffee and waited for the waiter to head on her way.

As the musical piece came to a close, Darrel snapped from his swaying trance and tapped the power button. Swift and precise, his movement could have been considered robotic. He couldn’t chance the next piece starting up, for if it did, he would need to listen to it in full as well. With a faint smile still imposing its presence upon his typical stone face, he exited the house.

On the front porch he stood for a moment to analyse the morning. The air was a little more crisp and fresh than usual. A good thing. He closed his eyes for a time to enjoy the fragrance. It was something like a cross between the scent of fresh snow and a distant forest fire. He savoured the moment. But then, opening his eyes once more, his good feelings were gone –

The smile ran away from his face, replaced with his usual stone chisel.

There she was. Across the street and two doors down. That filth. Dustynn Knight was her name. Though he had never actually spoken with her, he was well aware of who she was by way of the many letters he had stolen from her mailbox since she moved into the neighbourhood. Not that he was stalking her, he did the same for every resident on the street, because this, like many of his incessant behaviours, was a product of his obsessive need to know the people who resided around him.

Dustynn was basically harmless, or so it would seem. But she was revolting. Just looking at her sitting there amid the overgrown lawn of her yard made him sick to the stomach. How hard was it to simply cut your grass? If only she would, at the very least, dress like a decent lady and stop punching holes in her flesh, she might pass as an actual human.

His morning was ruined.

He gave her the dirtiest look he could while swallowing back the urge to vomit. Just the thought of how repugnant her woman parts would taste…

He looked away sharply. Clearing his mind of the image of her. It was time for his scheduled cup of Earl Grey tea at Emily's Family Diner. Had the staff there had so much as an ounce of intelligence his usual table in the quiet corner would be reserved and waiting for him.

As he moved down the path between the oak trees to the street, yet another abomination caught his eye. A young man with a guitar and duffle bag making his way up the sidewalk. How loathsome. No dignity at all. No wonder he appeared lost and bemused. How did the youth these days even manage to live with themselves? Could he not even keep his attire straightened? God knows he would likely not even be capable of playing a decent tune with that hammer of his.

Darrel paused by the gate to his yard, chin up and eyes rolled down to the side as the young man passed by, admiring his perfectly kept lawn to avoid making eye contact. It was fortunate the young man passed by without a peep. Perhaps this day wouldn’t turn out so bad after all.

Once he exited the gate, Darrel paused a moment to take in another breath of the mildly fresh air, and then started walking up the sidewalk in the direction of the diner. Unfortunately, like all mornings, this walk to the diner would involve having to pass Dustynn's house, not to mention the rundown shithole that the guitar man was now self-loathing in front of.

‘Please…. Cry me a river.’

---

Despite her rank in law enforcement, Sharon wasn’t one for dressing the part. Uniforms and prestigious attire just made her feel downright uncomfortable. Still, she did have her badge exposed on the belt of her well-worn black cotton pants, slightly covered by the partial overhang of her brown leather jacket. Her eyes were green, hair a deep auburn and tied back in a loose ponytail. She was a good-looking woman, cute button nose type and in her mid-thirties – but at a glance there weren’t many people who would take her as a day over 25, seemingly far too young to make detective. But she was just that. She was the lead detective in the case surrounding the many young women that had gone missing in Blacktown and surrounding areas. The case had recently been named The Rapture, since it was the best anyone could think of as reference to so many women going missing without a trace… or at least that was the way things were until today.

Early morning was spent at the local morgue getting a rundown by the head coroner on all the reasons why the recent recovered body of a young woman, a pretty blonde by the name of Alice, could have actually been the first of the missing victims to actually turn up. But was Alice one of them? Sharon wasn’t convinced. She, however, had to admit that the report the pathologist gave had its convincing elements. But why now? Why after all this time did the abductor become sloppy enough to leave evidence behind?

The first order of business was visiting Alice’s parents with the morbid news of their daughter’s death - always one of the hardest parts of the job - but Sharon didn’t have the mindset for that shit at the moment. That would have to wait for an hour or two. Right now she had to think and organise her thoughts, and the best way to do that was with a much needed coffee and possibly a pancake or two. She arrived at Emily's Family Diner a little after opening time and parked herself neighbouring the table that seated a pretty young lady with hair dyed pink. Possibly a call girl or worker at one of the local clubs dropping by after her shift for a bite to eat. Sharon knew the type but wasn't one to judge. As she nestled uneasily in her seat, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this particular young lady was to be the next victim in The Rapture case. A feeling of dread sunk into Sharon’s stomach as she took out her field notes and started to assess them while waiting for service.

As the minutes went by, the neighborhood was starting to wake up slowly but surely. Children started to play outside, their parents either keeping a doting eye on them or they were asleep inside, recovering from last night's hangover. She rubbed her hands together, ridding herself of the remaining crumbs that stuck to her fingers. She then proceeded to shake out her over sized shirt from the crumbs that came had traveled their way down. She chuckled softly as she stood up, noticing that the house next door that had been boarded up for some time had a visitor.

"Yo!" she called out as the man kicked the door, his frustrations clear from across the yard. She began to walk over, the long grass swishing across her bare ankles and tickling between her toes. "That family has been gone for months now." Dusty mentioned, stopping a couple feet away from the man. She didn't know if he had a weapon or if he had been drugged out, trying to break into the place to have somewhere to sleep. Though, she would find him an idiot if he had decided to do that in the light of day.

Taking a small puff of her joint she tossed it to the ground and used the ball of her foot to smash it into the ground. "If you trying to get in there though.." she paused, choosing her next words carefully, "I may be able to help you out." she cooed, a mischievous smile spreading across her lips.

@MissCapnCrunch

Marcus looked up from the ground as he heard a woman’s voice calling over to him from the yard next door, raising a brow in frustrated curiosity at her. He cursed under his breath as she told him that the family who had once lived in the house had been gone for months. “And they didn’t even bother to call? Fucking typical…” He cursed softly with a heavy sigh, before pushing himself to his feet. He kicked the air lightly, before standing there, facing out into the street, and taking a deep breath to calm himself. He shook his head a couple of times, before letting out a soft chuckle. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.” He scoffed with a shrug, before turning back to the girl who had given him the news.

He hadn’t gotten a good look of the girl as she was walking over, but now that he had turned to face her, he was caught off guard a little. She was short, with black curly hair, and dark brown eyes. Marcus wasn’t sure if he recognised her not, he hadn’t lived in that neighbourhood for a few years, and never really paid much attention to the people back then anyway. But he did know one thing for sure. She was gorgeous.

“Heh, sorry… I must seem like some sorta crazy person…” Marcus spoke softly, with a nervous chuckle, giving the girl an uneasy smile. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly in god knows how long, and probably hadn’t had a good meal in about as long. “I, um… My family lived here… Guess they moved and forgot to let me know.” Another uneasy chuckle left the young man’s lips as he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, trying to play it off as no big deal, but not doing so well at it. The presence of pretty girl added to the unease of the situation for Marcus, who had never been great with people in general, let alone those he found attractive. “I… Uh, I guess… Umm…” He stumbled over his words, his face growing redder by the second, as his words were refusing to come out of his mouth in a proper sentence. He cursed at himself in his mind for being such an awkward loser, but sleep deprivation, hunger, and everything else going on was just getting a little too much for him. “Umm… You said you could help me, umm… Get into the house?”